


Quiet

by rawrkinjd



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Minor Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/pseuds/rawrkinjd
Summary: When Lambert loses Aiden, his world comes to an end. One winter he’s close to bringing his pain to a permanent end when he finds Aiden again, rendered in starlight. Aiden visits for an hour every year and gives Lambert the time he needs to work through his grief. This is Day Thirty-One of Decembert, but I wanted it to have its own story.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 87





	Quiet

* * *

After they killed the Ogre of Ellander together, Lambert and Aiden became inseparable. While reluctant to trust another witcher at first, Lambert quickly realised that he’d found something of a kindred spirit. They met up constantly throughout the year, always planning their next meet before they parted so that there was something to look forward to in the endless, painful drudgery of witchering.

In Aiden, Lambert discovered a different way of doing things. A different way of thinking. He hadn't purposefully killed a human since dispatching his father in his very first year, but after several hours of listening to Aiden talk - about the Continent, about his experiences, about the evils of humanity - Lambert readily believed that not all monsters had to have fur, claws and an entry in Brother Adalbert’s Bestiary to qualify as one. “You’ve been fighting monsters all your life, Bert. Even before you became a witcher. Might as well start collecting on it.”

They only ever took contracts on people that deserved it. Murderers, swindlers, traffickers and abusers. Aiden was fastidious in his research. He presented Lambert with the evidence each time and was always honest. If the bastard had a family, he said. If there was an old aunt in the backwater of Redania that needed money from the trafficking ring, he said. There were no secrets. Just truths, and sometimes the truth was ugly. It didn’t matter. If given a choice, Lambert would swallow the most bitter truth in the space of the gentlest lie every time.

This wasn’t the only deeply held belief that Aiden challenged. The bastard picked away at Lambert’s carefully constructed shield of anger; he probed and prodded, sometimes until Lambert detonated with rage and misery. And then he weathered it. He listened. There was no ‘calm down, Lambert’; no attempt to tell him it wasn’t that bad, that he was over-reacting, or that everyone went through it. Aiden was the first one that actually fucking listened.

And when someone listened, when someone made the effort to try and understand, even if they couldn’t fully comprehend the sheer scope of the tempest inside your head, the burden grew a little lighter. With Aiden, Lambert didn’t feel like he was dragging a deadweight behind him. He found it easier to laugh and joke and smile, even without the assistance of liquid courage. Sometimes they didn’t drink at all; they just sprawled out on their sleeping mats, hands tucked behind their head, and watched the sky.

Far away from civilisation, in the depths of Kaedwen, the skies were always clearest. Aiden told Lambert that humans give off this smog. It poisoned, twisted and obscured everything. They couldn’t help it. Did it by nature. But their influence couldn’t reach too far beyond their settlements. The wilderness fought back. The air was crisper, the trees greener and the stars brighter.

It was under those stars that they shared their first kiss. It wasn’t a drunken fumble as one would expect; the harsh smashing together of mouths, blood dripping from broken lips, as they feasted on the adrenalin of a bar brawl. No, it was slow, and ponderous, and Lambert’s eyes fell halfway closed at the overwhelming pleasure of having Aiden against him. The world around them spun, dizzying, the colours too bright, and Lambert clung to Aiden like an anchor as his mind threatened to untether.

Every nerve trembled in awe, his shaking lips parting to accept the gentle sweep of a tongue, and his body prickled wherever Aiden touched, as if he’d snatched those little sparks from the sky and placed them now into his skin. Lambert felt he must be glowing with it. His stomach fluttered, his heart hesitated and then fell into a new rhythm set by the one hammering deep in the chest pressed to his. 

He’d never been kissed like that. Gentle kisses on each lip, the tug of teeth, the way sunstone eyes flickered with pleasure as Aiden swept a hand beneath his shirt. Not to undress him, not in search of escalation, but to create yet another connection between them. His palm was like a searing brand and Lambert’s entire body lit up with it. 

That was how Lambert perceived their love. When he was on the Path alone, it was a tiny pinprick in an ocean of darkness; he could think back to their time together and find comfort, a reason to continue trudging on. But when they were together? It was like holding that light in his hands; fierce, and bright, and beautiful. Lambert could allow himself to be overwhelmed by it. Bolstered by it. Aiden and his love, conditional only in as far as Lambert loved and respected him in return, gave him a reason to breathe. 

_And then…_

_...he was gone._

In the first few weeks, Lambert acted in a whirlwind of vengeful rage. He unlocked the shackles on the tempest inside and allowed it to pour out as he exacted retribution. The evidence didn’t matter anymore. If someone knew something - anything - he broke down every obstacle until they told him. Some survived, some didn’t. Lambert was beyond caring. In the end, it was a contract. Nothing special. Aiden had clearly gathered new information halfway through and had thrown in the towel. That was the only explanation for it. He didn’t skip out on agreements; that wasn’t Aiden. 

The blood he let at Geralt’s side was meant to be enough. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. But he was foolish to think that Karadin’s worthless, measly soul would measure up to one that burned like the stars. To Aiden. It didn’t take long for the realisation to sink in. In fact, the last vestiges of desire, of warmth, of anything, drained from Lambert’s chest as he watched Karadin bleed out on the cobblestones before him. He thanked Geralt. Sent him away. And then… nothing.

_The world was muted._

_Numb._

Sometimes Lambert touched his own skin where Aiden used to - his neck, his ribs, his thighs - and hoped to find glimmers of warmth. Love like theirs left something behind; a residue, an ember. It had to. It was too strong to be snuffed so effortlessly. There had to be... something. But in the throes of his grief, in the wake of the burning fury that had fuelled him through his revenge, Lambert felt only a dull ache. An echoing emptiness. 

He lost himself in bigger events; the battle, overcoming the Wild Hunt. Lambert, the man who’d loved, and laughed, and smiled, disappeared into hollow grief, leaving behind the witcher who hissed and spat. The old Lambert. There was comfort to be found in places, with a few people, but it was always fleeting and it barely scratched the surface of frost that had encased Lambert’s soul. Whenever Lambert looked pleadingly into the darkness to see those same pinpricks of light, the abyss stared back; yawning, endless and cold.

During the second winter after Aiden’s death, Lambert found himself on the tallest roof of Kaer Morhen. Many of the older turrets had folded in without maintenance. They were hollow cylinders of snow and ice, with whatever furniture or artefacts they’d once held buried beneath. He’d been drinking heavily for days, but in a disturbing moment of clarity his mind had provided one way they could be together again. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It was so fucking simple. One step, and he’d be with Aiden again.

Lambert looked up at the stars as he stepped towards the battlements. When he looked at a clear, open sky, he could always hear Aiden’s voice. His chuckle, his sarcasm and his love. Frozen shards of ice cracked away under the press of Lambert’s boot. He’d watch the stars when he did it, because that’s where he wanted to be. 

“Lambert.”

He stopped. That had sounded…

“Lambert, please don’t.” 

_...real._

He turned and his heart seized the breath in his lungs. The sight before him sent a spear of raw pain and disbelief through his entire being. It was scorching as it shattered through the numbness. Because Aiden stood before him. Except, he wasn’t entirely there. His body swayed and rippled, like the borealis; the colour faded and edged in gold. “Aiden?” Lambert’s voice cracked in desperation and from disuse, just saying his name was like a stab in the chest.

“Yeah,” Aiden said, his voice a little distant. “Kind of. It’s me… but, um, not. I can’t really explain. I don’t really get it myself.”

“Fuck, I’ve lost my ploughin’ mind,” Lambert murmured, and turned back to the ledge.

“No, please, hear me out,” Aiden moved forward and took Lambert’s hand. Or tried to. Lambert felt it. A wave of warmth over his skin that chased back the edge of the numbness. He’d brought a cloak out of habit, but it did only the bare minimum in keeping the cold at bay. “Just… hear me out. When have I ever lied to you?”

“But it’s not you,” Lambert whispered. “It’s me and I lie to myself all the fucking time.” 

“Well, alright, I’ll give you that,” Aiden’s fingers didn’t leave though, they moved up to Lambert’s wrist and the warmth moved with them. There was no physical hold there. Lambert could pull away and the contact would break, but he stayed anchored to the spot. “But if it’s your own head telling you not to do it, then shouldn’t you listen too?”

“Not if it’s conjuring ghosts of my dead--,” Lambert trailed off. His heart broke anew. He hadn’t looked back at Aiden since turning away, his eyes closed, but now he opened them slowly. The golden halo of light hurt him at first; the tears burning at the back of his eyes made it worse. But it was Aiden. He was wearing his cat school armour, with the tartily high sleeves, the turned up collar; his smile was just as gentle as Lambert remembered, with scruffy, unkempt hair and the single braid curling down from behind his ear. “Why here? Why now?”

“Can you come away from the edge?” Aiden tried to tug and Lambert watched his handsome face twist in frustration as his fingers of light passed right through. Why would his mind do that? Why wouldn’t it make Aiden’s grip feel solid? Was it torturing him more, or - ? Fuck, no; he wasn’t this creative. His mind was scientific, logical; Aiden was the one with all the flare and imagination. “Lambert, please… come, sit down. I want to talk. It’s been two years. I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve missed me?” Lambert’s tone shot up several octaves, throat crackling. Rather than argue with his own head, he found himself moving away from the edge. There was a heavy stone sitting in the centre of the turret, one of the huge, square blocks the Aen Seidhe had used to construct the keep. He took one end, and Aiden settled on the other. His hand rested gently on Lambert’s thigh. There was no weight to it.

“You look worse than when we took that garkain nest and used our blood to lure them out,” Aiden said, his feigned amusement trying to cajole a smile.

“Huh, I think if you remember I gave the most. You were squeamish,” Lambert shot back. “I couldn’t believe it. We got gored on the regular and you were getting precious about little leeches.” 

“Yes, well, firstly, leeches are gross. Secondly… umm, leeches are gross. Any questions?”

Lambert couldn’t help it. The smile edged over his lips and he looked up from the frosted rooftop. It faded quickly as the urge to confess washed over him in a crushing tide of guilt. “When I found out what happened to you, I… a lot of people got hurt, Aiden. I can’t remember half their faces. Some of them probably didn’t deserve it.” 

“I know,” Aiden said, evenly. There was no open forgiveness in that tone. Aiden had always been clear that they weren’t wanton thugs. If they took a human life, then the soul should’ve already condemned itself. “You were grieving and using the only blunt instrument you know how to wield.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t use it as another thing to punish yourself with. You do too much of that.”

“If I’d been there, you - .”

“No.”

“Stop saying fucking _no_ ,” Lambert growled, his temper flaring like a burning coal under the bellows. Always there. Always ready to be ignited. “You… you haven’t been here. You left me, Aiden. You left me to drown in this fetid fucking world and I can’t fucking stand it. I can’t feel anything. It’s not like before, I always felt something. Like a raw nerve. I had anger and it was like an anchor and a compass, it gave me a way to deal with shit - with everything - but you took it away, and then you left, and now I have _nothing._ ”

Aiden didn’t say anything. He sat there in silence, but he was still looking. Still watching Lambert with earnest attention. _Listening._

“I was just starting to - I thought that - .” Two tears escaped Lambert’s eyes. Fat and heavy. They left damp trails that cooled quickly in the winter chill. “How are you here? If it’s just my mind being a cunt, tell me. _Please._ ” 

“It’s new year’s eve,” Aiden said, as if it would all automatically make sense, but paused, his golden eyes turning towards the stars they’d both gazed at for so long at each other’s side, “the hour before midnight. The line between your world and others becomes… thinner.”

“Oh, shit, so I should expect a visit from the Aen Elle?” Lambert asked, his smirk faint. 

“Nah,” Aiden grinned. “You saw those bastards off for good, I reckon.”

“Hm.”

“It still takes a lot of… effort to be here.”

“Effort?”

“I feel like I’m stretching. It’s hard to explain. But I saw you when I looked over, I saw what you were about to do, and I knew I had to try.”

“Why didn’t you let me? I could’ve been with you now. I could be touching you for real, I - .”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Aiden whispered. “Or at least, I’m not sure it does. There’s still a lot I don’t really understand. It’s like there’s more for you to do, and if you don’t do it, then…”

“Then what?”

“Then... nothing.”

“Great,” Lambert growled. Because it was yet another thing he got no choice in; how - fucking - predictable. Something large, cosmic and cruel was having a big laugh at his expense yet again. “So, give me the list. Tell me what I need to do. Quicker I can get it done, the quicker I can be with you.”

“It doesn’t… I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that either.”

Rather than give into the surge of anger, Lambert swallowed it down. Now that he was looking at Aiden, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. How could he waste his time with anger when Aiden was right there? Even if this was his mind cracking down the middle, the insanity of grief bleeding through, then he’d take it. Because it felt real; he could feel Aiden’s warmth against him and it chased away the cold. He was holding the stars in his palms once more.

“Can you stay?”

“No.”

“How long?”

“An hour,” Aiden murmured. “At the strike of midnight, I’ll fade away.”

Just an hour. Lambert would take it. 

“Huh, like the fairytales,” Lambert smirked. “You’re a princess.”

“Damn fucking straight I’m a princess.”

“You’re about as straight as a graveir’s tongue.”

“Still as romantic as ever,” Aiden raised an eyebrow.

“You bring out the best in me.”

They sat there in silence and basked in the reality of the statement. 

“I miss you,” Lambert whispered, his chest seizing painfully. “I miss you so fucking much. It hurts to breathe, Aiden, and when it’s not hurting… it’s cold.”

“You hate the cold, I know,” Aiden nodded, and then gazed at the sky. “I never left you. Not really. You were just so angry that you didn’t realise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the same bullshit from Eskel. The ones you love never really leave, yada-yada. It’s just… he was just trying to make me feel better.”

“Even if he was, he cares for you enough to try. That’s rare. You were the first to ever care enough to try with me.”

Lambert looked down suddenly and met those eyes of smoldering gold. He’d been so lost in his own grief that he’d failed to even consider how Aiden felt. Stranded in an unknown world, wherever that may be, without anyone he recognised. Aiden had never really had a family before he became a witcher, and his school, full of degenerates and murderers, didn’t qualify. Lambert had been his family. “What’s it like where you are?”

“I’m…” Aiden’s brow furrowed. “I’m not really sure. It’s… strange. I’m not sad, or angry, or happy. Just content. It’s warm. And sometimes I can see other places. Other universes. Other worlds. But I,” he sighed, Lambert felt the brush of it near his cheek, “I miss you. And I want to hear about everything. Everything I’ve missed; not just the good either, I want you to tell me the ugly, the bad. Like we did when I was with you. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Lambert said, considering the skies briefly. They probably didn’t have long left. “Want me to start with Karadin?” Aiden nodded eagerly, so Lambert started talking. He told him everything. There was no particular order to it, he just said whatever came into his head, and Aiden smiled, chuckled and touched his hand as he listened. 

Lambert realised their time was up when the warmth against his fingers began to fade. “No,” he rasped. “Not yet. Please.” The tears - angry, burning, desperate - brimmed in his eyes and his fingers curled to try to cling onto Aiden’s palm. They passed right through.

“Baby wolf,” Aiden whispered, his fingers of starlight brushed gently over Lambert’s tear stained cheeks. “I’ll be back. Next year. I promise.”

“Don’t lie, don’t… if you don’t, I’ll…” Lambert choked out and glanced towards the edge of the roof.

“I never lie to you,” Aiden said it firmly and for a moment his eyes flared brighter again. Orbs of fire against the darkness. “You must live for me. You can’t give up. I’ll be here. Same time. Don’t let me down.”

“Gods,” Lambert scrubbed angrily at his eyes and then Aiden’s lips were on his. He longed to kiss back, but there was nothing solid for him to push against; nothing for him to grasp. It still had the same effect; the full body throb of heat and love and desire. Aiden faded in Lambert’s arms and he was left in the cold as the new year unfurled before him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider his original plan before he left that rooftop. There was nothing but a promise to a ghost that might not exist to stop him from doing it. But he didn’t. Instead, he returned to the keep, grabbed himself some ale and drank himself to sleep. In the morning the memories were still sharp, and when he traced the path of Aiden’s touch - the backs of his hands, his face - he felt it. The stars beneath his skin. And he knew it hadn’t been a dream. 

The following year was difficult. He dragged himself through it. He fell back on old habits of anger, bitterness and violence. Anything to survive. There was blood, and wounds, and many evenings spent in the bottom of the bottle. But he made it. When the final hour of the year rolled by, he was standing on the roof, waiting. His mind was clear this time. No drinking in the days before. It was probably a lie, it hadn’t been real, his head was a cruel fuck, he -

The air shimmered. Ripples of emerald, sapphire and topaz spilled into the emptiness and coalesced into a shape edged with gold. Aiden forged in starlight. “Hello, baby wolf,” he said, his smile bright and proud. Lambert fell into the warmth of him and sobbed. Loud, ugly, relieved. Not a lie. Not made up. Real. 

When the tears abated, they sat down and talked again. Lambert told him everything as he’d promised. The good, the bad and the downright fucking ugly. Aiden listened, touched him, kissed him, and they gazed at the stars together until he faded back into the darkness. “Keep fighting for me.”

The year after that was easier. Something to live for. A promise to keep. Lambert fought harder, built himself on the foundations of those fleeting moments with Aiden on Kaer Morhen’s rooftop. They met again. They talked. Aiden was proud.

As the years went by, as their meetings continued, Lambert grew stronger. Not physically - he was a witcher, there were very few improvements to make - but his heart, his mind. He was able to see things through different eyes, look at what he did have rather than what had been taken away. What he’d been denied in the first place. Because he didn’t want to spend his hour with Aiden talking about the world’s ugliness; he wanted to offer something better. Something more.

While he looked for the good and the worthy, Lambert noticed how much had been there all along, even before Aiden, even while he’d been alive, that Lambert simply hadn’t seen. People that he had pushed away because they didn’t fit his narrative of how uncaring and at fault the world was.

He noticed Eskel. How the big oaf was always at his side when he could be. Any excuse, and even when there wasn’t one. How Eskel always looked so fucking happy to see him; on the Path, every morning when they woke up, when they passed each other in the fucking hallway. The comfort and the proximity didn’t go away even when Lambert was ‘better’, even when he stopped drinking himself into a stupor every night and the sallow, yellow-ish grey tinge left his skin. 

Eskel was warm, genuine, and always there. He listened too. Lambert only noticed it in the fifth year after Aiden’s death; he mentioned he was feeling a bit shit and Eskel had dropped everything to offer a shoulder. He’d started with chess, cards, drills; the established language of their relationship. When Lambert had asked to just talk, Eskel’s entire face glowed and he’d sat down with him before the fire. He didn’t judge, or offer unsolicited advice, just hummed and nodded, urging Lambert to continue. Then, at the end of it all, when Lambert felt his eyes burning and his chest pulling tight, Eskel had whispered something that meant Lambert could never go back to viewing him like he had before. “Thank you for trusting me. It means a lot. I… I’m always here for you. Always have been, and I always will be.”

In the years that followed that revelation, Lambert felt something new grow between them. It bloomed slowly and it needed gentle curation lest it shy away; a tiny flower struggling through a tangle of weeds towards the sun. Tender touches, quiet evenings in front of the fire; laughs, and jokes; stories, and then… a kiss. 

It was different to kissing Aiden. Not just because the topography of Eskel’s mouth was different - the scars, the lip notch, the angle of his jaw - but because Eskel held him, touched him, in a whole new way. 

There was no explosion, no flare of sparks, but a slow spread of warmth that started where their lips met and finished at the very tips of Lambert’s toes. Eskel’s hands slid against his skin and the throb of heat intensified, like sinking into the hot springs or between the warm furs of his bed. Aiden was his star; bright, burning and beautiful, a light in the darkness when he needed it the most. Eskel was his sunrise, the end of the cold and the beginning of a new day.

When they parted, Eskel’s full lips were red and swollen, his eyes misty, and they curled around each other on the furs. For the rest of the night Lambert buried his face in that broad chest and breathed, gently probing at the feelings broiling in his own with tentative fingers. It felt wrong. Aiden had been urging him to open himself for years - find someone, anyone, and hold them close - but it’d never felt right. It was a betrayal. There was no replacement for Aiden. And yet what he had with Eskel had always been there, untapped and unrealised. But before he could enjoy it, before he could bask in Eskel properly, he needed… Aiden.

When the time came he climbed to the roof and waited for Aiden to appear. There were no tears anymore, just smiles and eyes closed in bliss as the warm light spilled over his skin. The year had been boring - a few gnarly contracts, a small civil war in Kaedwen - and as they gazed at the stars, Lambert told him.

“I need to ask you something,” Lambert swallowed. “Please don’t leave. Don’t get angry.”

“You used to piss me off on the reg’, baby wolf. I never left.”

“Ha, yeah,” Lambert sniffed. “I’ve… there’s someone. But before I can… I… I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten you. Replaced you. That…”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Aiden breathed. There was no cloud in the darkness, but Lambert felt it on his skin. “Please, go on.”

“You already know.”

“Yeah.”

“And what, you were just waiting for me to - ?”

“For you to talk to me about it,” Aiden rested on his back on their usual slab, hands tucked behind his head. “You’ve been dancing around it for ages.”

“Bastard.”

“Mhm. So…?”

“It’s Eskel, I think I might love him.”

“Well, from everything you told me about him when we were together, I’m not surprised. I used to get a bit jealous, you know.” His eyes crinkled in amusement, and Lambert wanted to thump him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think there was anything, but… there is. For him, I think there’s been something for a long time. I was just too engrossed in my own shit to even notice, and he’s not exactly the type for grand, sweeping gestures. I don’t want you to stop visiting. I can’t lose you again.”

Because Lambert lost everyone he cared about. It had started with his mother - her smile, her love, her fragility - and then Voltehre, the rest of his class; he’d lost Coen to war and Aiden to murder. There was no rhyme or reason to it; no greater destiny to fulfill. He wasn’t Geralt of Rivia, where every action and every step worked towards some greater cosmic good. Everything that happened to him just… happened, because life was cruel and death was worse. He was a curse, if anything. To know Lambert, to love him, was to draw the ire of fate.

“Lambert,” Aiden sat up, and Lambert felt his warmth blanket his back. “I’m dead. I’m not coming back. The whole point of this was to stop you from throwing yourself away. It was never meant to be permanent. You can’t live your whole life for someone that isn’t here anymore. You need to live it for all those that are. For yourself. In your heart, you know that.”

His voice echoed in stillness and Lambert looked down at his hands. “So, what? I can’t have you and Eskel. I have to choose.”

“No,” Aiden pressed his lips to Lambert’s cheek. “You have me forever. Whatever universe - whatever time, whatever we may look like - I’m yours; I’ll be waiting for you. But here and now? Eskel needs you, and you need him.”

Aiden was like the stars. The light in the darkness that had taught him how to feel, and how to love. Eskel was like the sun. Bright and brilliant, but Lambert could only feel the warmth of his rays now because Aiden had shown him how. 

His night, and his day. His entire world. 

Lambert scrubbed at his eyes and sniffed. If Aiden said he’d be waiting, then he would be. Aiden didn’t lie. In a world full of deceit and dishonesty, he’d always been honest. And now, after all these years of mourning, Lambert realised he had reached the final stage. Acceptance. The other stages had been a mishmash; no real order, and sometimes he flitted backwards and forwards between them. But now he gazed at Aiden, wreathed in the colours of the borealis, and he was… okay. “I have one more thing to request then.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to meet him. Just once. I was going to bring you up here. That winter. I want him to see you. Will he be able to see you?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden frowned. “I’m not really sure how all this works still. Magic isn’t really my forte. Chaos gives me the heebies.”

Lambert chuckled, his smile somewhat watery. “Yeah, hm,” a pause, “can we still try?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“And then? Once you’ve met him?”

“I’ll stay here. On this side. Waiting for you.”

“But no more visits?”

“It’s time for you to live the rest of your life. Properly.”

“Properly.”

They watched the stars. Aiden’s warmth faded at midnight, and Lambert headed into the keep in search of Eskel’s arms.

A year went by. The hour came around again. Lambert took Eskel’s hands and pulled him up the winding staircase. “I’ve wondered where you always head off to,” Eskel said, his voice like warm honey and chocolate. 

“Yeah, well, you’ll see. Don’t freak out, alright?” 

“Mmhm.”

They stood side by side. The hour came and Aiden broke from the darkness. “Hey,” Lambert grinned.

“Well, hello there,” Aiden beamed at Eskel, his tone outrageously sultry. Eskel furrowed his brow and looked at Lambert in confusion. He was a damn sight calmer than Lambert had been the first time. Clearly an age thing; the big guy had seen and done it all. 

“This is Eskel.” Lambert tugged him over and when Eskel didn’t say anything or move, he picked up his hand and held it forward. “Left your manners in the bottom of that ale bottle?”

“Uh,” Eskel blinked and shifted, uncertain. His gaze flickered to and fro, and then tipped up towards the dark skies before returning to the rooftop. “He’s… okay, a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Aiden stepped closer and lifted his hands to Eskel’s face. He didn’t flinch away, but his hand lifted to trace over his scars as Aiden did, pupils expanding over amber eyes. They stood like that in silence. Aiden didn’t say anything; he just touched Eskel, tracing the marks of his hardships, touching his lips, his hair and the hollow of his throat. Eskel stood there, his brows knitted together, gaze occasionally flickering across to Lambert.

Lambert watched them, his heart full, until Aiden touched his hand and guided it to Eskel’s chest. “I approve. This is a good one.” 

“Wish you could’ve met when you were here,” Lambert whispered and Eskel pulled him into a tight embrace, his arms draped over his shoulders. “Maybe when…”

“Yeah,” Aiden turned his eyes to the sky and Lambert followed, his hand still wrapped in fingers of gold and emerald. This was their last time. Their last hour. And Lambert didn’t want to fill it with details of contracts, of the Path, of hardship and other such bullshit. He wanted it to be filled with Aiden’s warmth, with Eskel’s reassuring weight. A twilight of bliss between his sun and his stars. 

As Aiden’s warmth began to fade, Lambert sucked in a harsh breath, fingers clenching. Aiden smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll see you on the other side.” 

Eskel held Lambert tightly when he turned into his chest and shook. The tears that soaked through his cloak kept warm by the press of Lambert’s face. The scarred witcher kept his eyes on the sky, his chin settled carefully in ruffled brown hair. He could still feel the traces of warmth on his skin, like sparks cast off of steel in a blacksmith’s forge, and his medallion had stilled the moment Lambert’s tears had started to fall. 

There were some things in life that were inexplicable. Some things that defied reason and logic. Grief, love. Eskel had learned that it was best to accept those things for what they were, allowing them to take their natural course, unobstructed (and undamaged) by well-meaning interference.

Eskel watched the sky once more. The stars glittered and he could scent the next snowstorm on the air. The shimmer of the borealis on the midnight horizon, framed by the craggy silhouettes of the mountains, was breath-takingly beautiful. Lambert said Aiden lived in the stars now, and Eskel believed him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>   1. Saovine is New Years on the Continent. New Year’s Day would be on the 1st November. It’s celebrated by both elves and humans. Obviously, I’m publishing this on our New Years, but I thought you’d be interested in this little bit of trivia.
>   2. This reflects a personal representation of grief, so my apologies if it clashes or conflicts with your own experiences.
>   3. I would like to wish everyone a happy (or at least _better_ and _safe_ ) 2021. Thank you to all those that have been so lovely in the fandom this year; you’ve pulled me back from some bad places at times. I'm forever grateful.
>   4. Artwork by the brilliant [Fofoart](https://fofoart.tumblr.com/). 
>   5. With thanks to [Squeakerblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakerblue/pseuds/Squeakerblue) for a beta read.
> 



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